When Hiraya finally emerged, Kendrick looked up and instantly regretted it.
She was wearing his oversized T-shirt and sweatpants, but the dampness of her still-wet hair clung to the shirt, moulding it to her body – capturing the delicate outline of her rounded breasts and her pink, hardened tips pressing subtly against the fabric.
Kendrick's breath hitched. His grip tightened around the pillow resting on his lap, his face twisting with embarrassment as he quickly looked away.
"Uhm... I'm sorry....again....for umm....earlier." He stared at the wall, the ceiling and anywhere but her. "I didn't mean to barge in. I just—umm... wanted to give you your clothes."
"It's fine," Hiraya said raking her fingers through her wet hair.
"By the way..." Kendrick continued still looking at the wall. "Who are you really? I mean... why were you dressed like… that tonight? What were you trying to accomplish?"
Hiraya rolled her eyes with a silent groan, irritated by his behaviour.
